


dancing with you

by staroamer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Falling In Love, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Short One Shot, this is soft, when they're sad they gotta dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 09:29:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16637336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staroamer/pseuds/staroamer
Summary: "You been here long?" Keith asks, relishing in the way Lance turns with a small smile.If Keith were being honest, he'd rather see that smile than all the stars in the universe. It's a bright sight, one that takes his breath away and puts it back all at once, reminding him that it's okay to reach for this new height. Lance holds out his hand and waits patiently for Keith to meet him in the middle of the floor, eyes shining blue as a summer day back home./ When they can't sleep, they find each other /





	dancing with you

**Author's Note:**

> Songs mentioned in this fic: 
> 
> [Love the One You're With](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bVVDfPXq-dU) by the Isley Brothers
> 
> [Lovely Day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaLDut30Br0) by Bill Withers 
> 
> [The Chain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P160_odTwyY) by Fleetwood Mac

 

Keith doesn't really know how things ended up this way.

There wasn't a cohesive agreement or shaking of hands and neither of them really searched for the other. On the contrary, it was a total coincidence that either of them ended up on the observation deck at all.  
  
Waking from night terrors are common among the team but Keith has yet to meet anyone else wandering in the halls and he supposes that's alright. They all deal with some things alone, including this. He still feels chills running along his skin and though it's been a while since his stomach has turned over on itself, he can feel a brush of nausea rolling in his guts. Blood stains his hands but with another blink they're clean, wiped fresh by the shower he'd rushed through only hours ago.  
  
Stalking through the hall, he runs his fingers along the cold panels, bumps and the gentle hum of the ship soaking into his entire being. It's easier to ground himself this way. Eyes roaming from the ceiling and back to the floor, he takes deep, steadying breaths. The air is stale but it'll do. It eases him from that restless sleep, where the past always comes to drag him down and down and down into a whirlwind of battles and losses and screaming civilians on war strewn planets.

Here, in these halls, there is only the echo of his own footsteps.

When he makes it to the observation deck he isn't really surprised to see it already occupied. The door slides shut behind him with a soft whoosh but it's minuscule compared to the music playing over a pair of old speakers. Found at the Earth store in a space mall, the stereo is reminiscent of a time long past. Listening to the slightly fuzzy noise, he can recall the breeze in the desert, the smell of pizza in town, the honking of car horns and that general vibration of life. He smirks and feels his shoulders relax as the song changes, the lyrics as familiar to him now as the voice singing along.

Lance sways to the music, the backdrop of the stars illuminating the way his hair has begun to brush the top of his shoulders.

 _"Well, there's a rose in a fisted glove,"_ He sings, voice already clear from use, _"And the eagle flies with the dove-"_  
  
"You been here long?" Keith asks, relishing in the way Lance turns with a small smile.

If Keith were being honest, he'd rather see that smile than all the stars in the universe. It's a bright sight, one that takes his breath away and puts it back all at once, reminding him that it's okay to reach for this new height. Lance holds out his hand and waits patiently for Keith to meet him in the middle of the floor, eyes shining blue as a summer day back home.

"The Isley Brothers really get me going." Lance breathes, a laugh on the edge of his voice.

Keith snorts, dipping his head as he's spun beneath Lance's hand. "You sound like a grandpa."

"I mean, I'm pretty sure that ancient mp3 was filled with grandpa-era music, so maybe I'm just channeling my future self." Lance shrugs, seeming eager to pull Keith a bit closer to his chest.

Their dances are always free flowing things. They have no pattern, no plan or step sequence: they just like to move. It shakes away the dark and Keith likes to imagine that it fends off the past they both tend to run from in times like this. The music switches and Lance beams, his voice leaving his throat with ease.

 _"When the day that lies ahead of me seems impossible to face,"_ He spins Keith again, ignoring the small glare he receives afterword, _"When someone else instead of me always seems to know the way, then I look at you and the world's alright with me-"_

Their eyes meet and Keith can feel a flush spreading along his cheeks, the color blooming in a way that used to make him cringe. Now, however, he gives himself over to the feeling. It warms the chill and he feels both of their palms settle against each other with a bit of sweat. Which, he guesses, should be kind of gross. But it connects them in a way he never imagined it could.

And there's no way in hell he'll pull away now.

"You know," He says, gaze flitting around Lance's face, "I'm glad we're doing this."

"Hmm?"

Keith shifts until they're close enough that if he wanted to, he cold rest his forehead against Lance's. Instead, he drops his eyes and simply keeps holding on tight. He flexes his fingers and looks at that laced connection, Lance's brown skin a bit dewy and freckled where it settles on his own.

"I just mean," Keith lifts a shoulder, "this helps. Y'know, when things get rough, it's nice to get away from it for a while. With uh...with you."

Lance blinks and slows his steps, breath leaving him in small huffs. The air is cold but here, between the two of them, everything remains very warm. When Keith looks to their feet he can even feel the heat of Lance's breath, the way it pushes a few loose strands and tickles at his jaw.

"Is this a love confession?"

The question makes Keith look up fast. He barely avoids slamming his head into Lance's nose but he can't even find the words to apologize. He simply searches Lance's expression, watching the way a small crease forms between his brows. His mouth is still upturned in a smirk and his lashes are dark and thick and if Keith weren't so focused on deciphering the situation, he'd probably lean forward and press his lips to the crest of his cheek.

Luckily, before he can condemn himself to perpetual embarrassment, he pushes his knuckles onto Lance's shoulder. It's a soft move but it gets the point across, his scoff quickly following suit.

"Whatever." He mumbles, already turning to switch the song to something a bit more upbeat, "You wish."

He lets his hand remain in Lance's but they dance in quick spins and shuffling feet, laughter coming and going when they get a chance to breathe. Keith doesn't mind. 

This way, he won't be so close to Lance again.

This way, he can push all of these warring emotions down until all that is left is a fierce longing; the kind that makes his chest and stomach flutter like wings in endless, infinite flight.

 

* * *

 

  
Keith had been asleep in his lion when the flash overtook his body.

It's always unexpected and it's never really his own decision, especially at a time like this. The others are asleep when he enters a room of glowing scarlet, the levers and pulsing console as homelike as his own blood. He lands in Red with a huff, head pounding a bit at the temple, eyes watery and fuzzy with that lingering sleep.

Kosmo, for all intents and purposes, is a bridge between the team. One moment they'll be dozing as the stars pass on their voyage home and the next they'll be landing behind someone else, hollering with laughter at the shock.

Now, however, there is no humor in the air. Keith can feel it the moment he spots the empty pilot seat; can practically feel the way sorrow and loneliness burrows into his stomach.

He turns fast, eyes shooting from one end of the cockpit to the other. The place is a bit of a mess, armor strewn beside empty water packets, a blanket thrown haphazardly, a broken console laying like trash beneath a makeshift bed. While Lance has always owned many trinkets, the kind that document his life and the transitions wherein, he's never really been _messy._

"Lance?" Keith calls, knowing the boy is all alone in the dark.

He shifts on the bed, a tuft of brown hair peeking free from crossed arms. He looks paler than ever, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Regarding Keith like a stranger, he doesn't bother with a reply.

"Are you-" Keith gulps and takes a step forward, "How can I help?"

Lance just shrugs.

Before, Keith might have backed away. He'd have called for Shiro through the comm's or left Lance alone, unsure of how he could make the situation better. But that was before. Before the bickering and the war, before their late night dances and the music and the fire that ignites in his body when they touch. However, more than anything, Keith knows Lance doesn't really want to be alone. He craves company the way Keith longs for flight, the way he wishes he could feel tires on the freeway- the way he wishes he could feel wind pushing at his hair as he races toward the endless desert horizon.

Looking around, Keith tries to dig through the collection of belongings with just his eyes. He spots skin care products and some video games, Lance's bayard and drawings given to him by fans. But finally, just as he debates asking the boy himself, he finds what he's searching for.

The stereo is just as rickety as he remembers it. Each button looks worn from the pressing of fingers, the speakers a pale, light blue. He ignores Lance's look of confusion and strides for the old thing, relief pouring into him the moment he flicks one of he knobs to the right. A small red light shines and he can hear a low static hum, the kind that promises music if only he were to press play. Looking behind the stereo, he spots the auxiliary wire and following soon after, the MP3.

When it plugs in and he finds a random song, he doesn't bother waiting for Lance to make the first move. Instead, he turns and holds out a hand, fingers gloveless and scarred. Lance looks up at him, brows furrowing over the dark circles beneath his eyes.

"What're you doing?" His voice is scratchy from disuse.

Keith shrugs and steps closer, urging him to take his hand. "It's been a while. We don't have the castle ship anymore but we still have each other. We'll always have each other."

Something like a sob rips from Lance's throat but instead of burrowing deeper into his blankets, his hand grabs hold of Keith's with a vise grip. Like he'd been waiting for the tether meant to help him stand, he holds on with quiet desperation. Their fingers lace, palms meeting just like they used to and though it's been more than three years since they've done something like this, it doesn't really feel like it. Though the space for their silly dance is smaller, it seems neither of them care.

_Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise-_

"Thank you." Lance whispers against the music, face beginning to gain back just a little bit of rosy color.

_I can still hear you saying, you would never break the chain-_

"C'mon, grandpa." Keith smirks, gaze roaming from Lance's bare feet to his lashes and eventually, to the scar that sits heavy on his bottom lip. "You used to dance so much better than this."

Lance tries to hold back a laugh but it soon erupts like falling water. It's refreshing, cool and crisp and light in the air. He moves his hips a little faster, chortling at the way Keith tries to tug at his hands in time with the music.

"We look ridiculous."

"When has that ever stopped us?" Keith quirks a brow, happily bringing Lance further away from his cold bed. "I'm surprised Kosmo hasn't zapped everyone else in here too. It'd be a party."

Lance shakes his head and pulls Keith against his chest, the action comfortable. Though they're older and covered in scars, both inside and out, this hasn't changed. And with just a look, Keith knows it never will.

"I like to think that this is like, _our_ thing." Lance says, voice growing quiet and serious. He has to look up at Keith by just an inch or two and his fingers tug at the hair on his nape, sending a shiver running the length of Keith's spine. "I'm glad it's just us. That you still want to dance with me like this."

"Yeah." Keith gulps. 

The reply is a bit pathetic but it's not like he can come up with something else. In the thick of battle he can make a plan and act fast, always finding himself several steps ahead of the enemy. But in the presence of Lance, held within a gaze like this, it seems he's lost almost all of his sharp wit. 

The distance between them begins to shrink whether they notice or not. It's like a magnet, the way the two of them come together. Like the colliding of galaxies or the stars going supernova, it is inevitable. Breath falls across Keith's lips and he gasps into the kiss, feeling as if he were waiting for this all of his life. There are no fireworks or the rolling of end credits but instead there is a rush of renewal, of a promise that everything has been worth it. From every struggle, to every corner of the cosmos, it will all have been worth it if it means Keith can just _feel_ Lance like this.

Their lips move with wild abandon, going with the flow, easing and rushing and biting. Lance's back curves as they press closer, his hands delving into Keith's long hair. And Keith, well, he isn't sure where his hands are. He just knows that it's impossible to tell where Lance begins and he ends.

When they pull apart, it's with a bemused laugh. They sway against each other, foreheads brushing, hair mixing.

"I'll always wanna dance with you like this." Keith admits, unwilling to allow himself an ounce of embarrassment. Though he's never been great with confessions and speeches, he knows this is something he needs to say before he tries to take it back. "Even when you're an actual grandpa, when you're all gray and wrinkly, i'll dance with you if you'll let me."

Lance throws his head back and lets out a bark of laughter, giving Keith ample time to press his lips to the hollow of his throat. When he pulls away, Lance looks as young as he was when he first found Keith all alone on the observation deck. The scruff is gone for just a moment and their adventure has just begun, the two of them alive and energized with the beating of young hearts.

When Keith blinks, Lance is once again a man of twenty two and a veteran of a war he should have had no part in. That none of them should have had to enter at all. He's bruised and sleep deprived and sometimes he feels very alone, as if the whole universe has forgotten him in this sentient lion. But he's still in Keith's arms and there's that light in his eyes, the color as blue as the sea; as clear as a day in summer.

And for Keith, that's all he needs to feel like he's flying. 

**Author's Note:**

> I really love music from the 70s and this little story happened. I hope you liked it <3


End file.
